


Swallow Your Pride

by wood_originals



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Gun Kink, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25496113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wood_originals/pseuds/wood_originals
Summary: Jax and Tig are left alone in the garage. This is shameless smut.
Relationships: Jax Teller/Tig Trager
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Swallow Your Pride

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching this show and thought, "Be the change you want to see in the world." So... here you go.

Jax didn’t know when it happened, but the white noise of the chatter and clanking of the garage was gone, replaced with the distant sounds of music and hell raising from the club house. He sat back from working on his bike, stretching out his stiff back and rolling his shoulders. He looked around the empty space, only to find it not as empty as he thought.

Tig was still there, on the other side of the garage, wiping absently at his gun, glancing over at Jax as Jax looked over to find him. He raised his eyebrows in greeting.

“You can keep rubbing that thing, but nothing’s coming out of it,” Jax joked mildly, wiping his hands off on a nearby rag before standing up.

“Oh yeah? You know a lot about rubbing one out?” Tig replied, stepping towards him with his usual swagger, putting his gun in front of his jeans and gesturing obscenely at him.

Jax laughed, an easy sound, shaking his head at him.

Jax started walking towards Tig, and Tig kept walking towards him. They bumped up against each other in a mimicry of the start of a fight, Tig saying dirty things and Jax either snarking back at him or rolling his eyes.

Something in the air was heavy and cloying. Interest and arousal peaked like they’d both had a couple of drinks and there were some gorgeous girls vying for their attention, though it was just the two of them, and Jax, at least, was sober.

Tig reached out towards Jax, and Jax stilled instead of pulling away, his fingers moving through his hair, holding the top of his head. Tig took another step forward and pushed him down, grinning like cat with a mouse.

“The hell, Tiggy?” Jax said, letting himself get shoved to one knee, leaving himself leverage to get back up. He glanced to the right, and saw they were hidden from the view of the only garage door still open, and it eased some of the tension in his muscles.

“What’s wrong, Jax? Forget what it’s like to prospect? Wasn’t that long ago,” Tig said, voice teasing.

“Don’t know what it was like for you, but I didn’t get on my knees for anyone,” Jax said, voice even. He didn’t know why he was kneeling, or half kneeling; didn’t know how this situation came up in the first place, or why he wanted to see how it would play out. Something dark stirred inside him, and he could feel his jeans against his cock.

“I can tell you’re hot for it,” Tig said. Jax wanted to punch that smug look off his face, but his body refused to work with him, staying still and obedient for the older man. “I can smell it on you.”

“Don’t care what you think you can smell, you’re not getting your dick in my mouth,” Jax said. Though his body was fighting him in many ways, his voice was even keel, and he was grateful for that. Plausible deniability, a soft voice in the back of his head said, something that felt familiar from being a teenager, messing around with Opie when they thought no one was paying attention.

“Don’t be gay, who said anything about my dick?” Tig played disgust in his voice, as though the whole club didn’t know he was game for anyone, gender or warmth a factor of mood more than necessity.

Jax looked up at him, confused, a second before he saw the flash of movement to his right, felt the tip of his gun pressed to his cheek, close to his lips. His whole body tensed up instantly, and he froze.

Tig laughed at him, nudging the weapon against his skin. Jax lowed himself so he was down on both knees now, spreading his legs slightly to steady himself. His cock was obviously hard in his jeans now and he could feel the heat in his face, it felt like his blood was pulsing through him too fast, too violent. He almost wanted to reach out to hold on to Tig, steady himself in the heavy air, but he refused to give him the satisfaction.

“Ahh, there’s a good boy,” Tig said, using the voice he used with the girls at the club house. He nudged the muzzle of the gun against Jax’s lips, which resisted the pressure. When he pulled in a breath, the air was tinted metallic, bloody like a split lip, mixed with Tig’s sweat.

Jax felt sick to his stomach, and harder than hell.

Tig tugged on his hair, encouraging him in a movement mirrored by Tara when he went down on her, and Jax opened his mouth for him instinctively. His body was giving in to Tig though his mind was fighting itself tooth and nail, thoughts a blurred mess of television static, easily losing the fight to the twinging, aching heat in his cock, the heavy _want_ that refused to give up power to any thought of logic.

The barrel of Tig’s gun pushed into his mouth, his lips spreading over it, not letting it get past the trigger guard. Tig let the movement stop there, keeping it stilled in his mouth. Jax could taste the cleaned metal against his tongue, feel it hard against his teeth. Jax’s hands sat firm on his thighs, digging into the denim to keep them from moving.

For a moment, everything was still. The only sign the world was turning still was the familiar noise from the club house. Tig smirked down at him.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Tig said, and Jax knew instantly they were the magic words he needed. An escape route, an excuse. If Jax wasn’t guarding himself so carefully, he would have moaned around the warming metal, heavy against his tongue.

Tig kept his hand firm in his hair as he started to fuck Jax’s mouth with the barrel of his gun, the object sliding in and out of his mouth in a patient rhythm. Tig groaned, tilting his head back for a moment as he worked Jax’s mouth, shifting forward slightly, letting the hand holding the gun bump up against his body, his cock. He started to move in tandem with the gun now, pushing forward with his hips, guiding the weapon.

The movement was disgusting, dirty, shameless. Something burned at the back of Jax’s throat, but he couldn’t tell if he was feeling sick from the idea of letting the older man use him, or from swallowing the spit that coated the barrel of his gun.

Jax closed his eyes finally, losing himself in the moment of it all, the action, the heavy air, the heat pooling in his gut and the way his cock ached. He strained to listen for any sound, the threat of someone seeing the scene, but there was nothing, no reason to stop it.

At the familiar click of the safety being disengaged, Jax’s eyes snapped open, feeling lightheaded in the flood of light, glaring up at Tig. Tig stared right back down at him, eyes glossy, and he tightened the grip in Jax’s hair as he groaned, _moaned_ , grinding the grip of his gun against the bulge in his jeans. The barrel clacked up against Jax’s teeth painfully, and Jax knew Tig was finishing himself off when he heard him swear, watched his face twist up.

Tig took a step back, breathing hard and ragged, and the empty space filled with the cool evening air. Jax felt hot as coals and strung so tight he could snap, and all he could do was keep his eyes on Tig.

When Tig finally looked at Jax again, after moments that felt like hours, he laughed at the sight of him. He twitched his thumb over the safety, turning it back on, before he holstered the still spit-wet gun with an easy movement.

“Easy, tiger,” he said, voice low with satisfaction. “I won’t think any less of you. You’re not the first pretty boy to take my barrel into his mouth.” He laughed like a hyena and ran a hand through his mess of curls. Jax refused to give him a response.

Tig never lost the smile on his face as he walked around Jax, taking a wide berth as though he were a wild animal, and headed back towards the club house.

Jax didn’t know why it happened, but he was left with the aftermath, his mouth stale with the metallic taste of a gun and the painful need to get off, in his parent’s garage.


End file.
